#also wheelchairs are impossible to draw.

[sketchyracoon]

My internal dialogue has simply been a chant of 'sea slug in a wheelchair'.

[maria-ruta]

wanted to draw this moment from our vtm game long ago!

Veronica's friend gangrel anarch Jack came to New Orleans (presumably) to help local gangrels streighten their position in the city during conflict with sabbat

Veronica had to meet with him but she was looking after Monica(fae girl) at the moment and couldn't leave her alone (it wasn't safe at such time) so she just took girl with her to the nightclub, where Jack said he'd be waitng Veronica

Monica couldn't walk well after just recently waking up from coma, so Veronica was carying her around like that (It also would be impossible to sneak around and move fast with a wheelchair anyway)

When friends noticed several shady guys(vamps?) going after them - they were on second floor of the club, so they decided to jump in order to escape the chase. Veronica trusted Jack more than herself to cary Monica while jumping down - girl didn't even get a scratch

Nightclub, pole dancers, chasing, adventures all together - need I say Monica had ton of fun this night!

Even tho Charlie (Monica's step dad and also Osato's character) was very upset that Veronica took girl to such a lecherous place XD

[coldalbion]

Dis/nomers: On misnomers, magic-metaphors, and life in general

So, here's the thing: a lot of societal and cultural metaphors around magic and occultism are in the so-called West, frankly, bad and a product of the imprecision in the English language about "power", which themselves are inherently modelled on industrial-capitalist frameworks thanks to the Industrial Revolution, and steam power. Think about what you mean when you use the word "power" or "intent" and ask yourself whether you are once again running on 19th Century (colonialist ideas: for example see non-Indigenous misconceptions of mana) that boil down to thinking you're a steam engine or some sort of closed system - because that's what the whole popular idea of energy comes from. Why? Because willpower doesn't really exist. Now something seems to be going on, when we do certain things. But are we hoodwinking ourselves - barking up the wrong tree, being led down the garden path -by the porting in pop-metaphor? Sure, it's easier, but is the apparent ease and clarity obscuring insights? Is it preventing us from taking our place as part of a living world; not clockwork and piston but inter-and-intra-relating, inter-and-intra-being in an 'animist' cosmovision? Consider the metaphors you use, and wonder how they're using you. Because they are - we are thinking-with-and-being-with the ongoing worlding of a daimonic (agential) kosmos. And that All is doing the same-with-us. Remember, changing the metaphors we use can change the way we think, and how we are in the world. This is why I mutter about kenning, as found in Old Norse poetry, but also as a method of indirectly approaching experience by folding in the world. Kenning is, in one sense creating a poetic metaphor, a circomlocution that describes a thing without direct nominalisation. A wheelchair user can be a throne-walker; the sea is not just the sea, it is the whale-road and also Aegir's-cauldron, Poseidon's-stable, etc etc.

"It is no coincidence that a kenning is a poetic term of art, a doubling and metaphoric circumlocution of a singular noun or thing – the sea becoming the “whale-road”, a sword seen as the “icicle of red shields”. A singular referent now exceeds itself, drawing the relationality with the whole world of those present. This indirectness, far from detracting from the referent, deepens the knowing. Each portion of the kenning exceeds itself also, thusly thickening the field of the sword or sea, and, in enhancing its relationality, enlivens each further. Further, this means that the poet acknowledges the excess of the referents, comprehending that kenning may build on kenning, and the full, totalistic mapping of a referent is doomed to fail in terms of completion. This goes even beyond the usual aphorism from astronomer Carl Sagan: “If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first create the universe.” For each element of the apple pie is capable of being defined by the relationality of all presences, in all forms, positions, and configurations in all possible and impossible universes – and each of these in turn relate to each other as they will. This then, is the joy and horror, the wonder and terror of an animate, fluxing kosmos – there is always more." - Goêtic Atavisms, Frater Acher & Craig 'VI' Slee (See link above: also available on Amazon as well as from the publisher if you need that)

Do we want to live in a world circumscribed by misnomers, grandfathered in with extractive and clunky ways of perceiving the world? Or do we want to embrace the dis/abling wyrd strangenesses of the numinous? The liberatory power of the dis/nomer - the radical proposition that there is always more than can be named, can be contained? That we might ken more if we embraced blurry, uncertain periphalisms which spiral endlessly inward and down into pandaemonic, living, breathing labyrinths? If we immersed ourselves in relational eddies, tides and gyres eternally returning-and-coming-forth-again - dis/membered and re-membered anew? To dive into currents and flows - the multiplicitous assemblage of influences which are the very bodyof the oceanic river which Herakleitos warned us that we could never enter in the same place twice? What might we notice is already happening, already ongoing, that we are amidst, then? Might we spot the plurality of Minotaurs engaging in their diasporic fugitivity, nomads in their myriad labyrinths, far older, wiser, and weirder than we thought we knew? Spaces of monstrously numinous sanctuary, far beyond the ken of the Theseus (their supposed slayer) and his identitarian regime of denial, his heroic ever-intact status quo. Pity the ship-builders in their labour; they work do so under the threat of sword - or is it gun and bomb, these days? But while Theseus abandons Ariadne, Dionysos does not! And while Theseus eschews the sea route to perform his labours in order to gain heroic glory and satisfy ambition, his oceanic ancestry has the last laugh - both mortal father Aegeus (thrown into the sea that bears his name) and he (thrown off an island cliff - presumably into the ocean) were reclaimed; seized by the sea and its thundering white horses. What might it be, to be oceanically possesed as that hero's mother was? To have one's soul-sea stirred by the Earthshaker? We can but dream on the matter - while also slyly noting that Athenians kept the Ship of Theseus preserved, as mark of divine heritage in their feted city ruled by the demos. What matters now, in these days when even politicians talk of the so-called "will of the people", is matters of ancestry and history dismissed; lineages of language and its many influences ignored - no entanglements here, vine or otherwise, we assure you! But thankfully, the ship-builders know the way of wood and net and weave. They know how many planks pass through their hands, how many nails struck, how much pitch is brewed. They know there's more. They're craftsfolk after all - assemblages are their business, whatever the material - they know what mattering is. And isn't it interesting that the Temple of Hephaistos in Athens was once mistakenly called the Thesseion - The Temple of Theseus, before the moderns realised their mistake? Watch the words we use, and how they use us. Be seeing you.

[phoenixonwheels]

The ~discourse~ around the term cripple punk is so wild to me bcs from what I've seen the people arguing that it includes mental illnesses/disabilities are mentally ill people who are ALSO physically disabled explaining from experience that not only are mental illnesses oftentimes disabling in exactly the same way physical disabilities are, but that trying to draw a hard line between "physical" and "mental" conditions is reductive and unhelpful in terms of actually accommodating us and understanding our conditions, especially given that both have so much overlap that it's hard to distinguish what's coming from where in the first place. Like when I'm having a bad enough depressive episode I feel real, physical pain in my chest that's so bad I can hardly stand up, and the accommodations that help me when my hEDS or POTs is making it hard to stand help when it's the depression instead. And yet I'm supposed to believe these two things are completely different, 100% of the time, no exceptions?? Plus like, idk every time I see people argue that mental conditions are somehow different from physical ones it just reminds me of how often doctors will brush aside the physical symptoms of my mental illnesses bcs they're "all in my head" despite how much I'm clearly suffering. For me so much of learning to live with stuff like my bipolar and adhd is unlearning the idea that my brain is like, a separate entity from my body, and accepting that the physical stuff I'm feeling shouldn't be dismissed just bcs it's caused by my brain and not like, my POTs or hEDS. For so often I've seen positivity posts talking about how mental conditions do physically affect people and understanding and accepting that is important, it's wild to see a group that should be on top of that sort of thing fumble it so badly.

And god, so much of the world is already against disabled people, getting mad that the "wrong" disabled people are using the term cripple punk while society does everything in its power to make life impossible for us feels like we're just doing their work for them. We should stand united in our very much shared struggle instead of desperately trying to shove everyone in separate boxes and make sure they stay there, insisting that we have nothing in common and could never share a community. We have everything in common and we need to stand together, now more than ever.

All of this! And also it’s clearly never occurred to them that a huge percentage of the medical gaslighting we’ve all experienced is having doctors blow off our physical disabilities and illnesses by claiming we’re mentally ill. Gee hmm I wonder why that is? Could it be that mental illnesses and disabilities are even more discriminated against than physical illnesses and disabilities? And if we all fight together for respect and rights for people with all types of disabilities and disorders we all benefit?

This shit is absolutely wild to me. And it leads to things like people yelling at me - an actual wheelchair user who is currently mostly bedbound - that I hate cripples and am somehow trying to “steal cripple privilege” and insert myself undeservingly into “cripple spaces” because I refuse to join them in their bigotry against mentally ill and mentally disabled people.

MERDs are to the Cripple Punk and disability rights movements what TERFs are to feminism and the queer rights movement. They’re dragging us back decades.

*MERD: mental-exclusionary radical disabled

[aiming-for-phantoms]

Some of y'all get way too mad on Scar's behalf about drawing him able-bodied. Coming from a disabled person.

First of all, I really don't think he cares that much about it. Genuinely. His Hot Guy merch has his character able-bodied and so is the official art on his TCG card. Almost all of his likes on Twitter is able-bodied fanart of himself. The man has been on YouTube for years, he would have said something about it if it bothered him.

Second of all, a lot of people (myself included) probably don't draw him disabled because there's a disconnect between gameplay and reality. Scar IRL is in a wheelchair, and a lot of what he does in-game is stuff that would be difficult or impossible to do in a wheelchair. It can be difficult to visualize how the events would accurately play out if he is also in a wheelchair, and that can make it hard for fans to create fanart of certain events that happen. I'm not saying it's impossible, I've seen many people get creative with it and have super cool results, but I feel like it's not a bad thing if people draw or write about events as they happened.

Third of all, you aren't somehow better than anyone else for drawing or writing him with a cane. Some of y'all act like you've put in way more effort than everyone else because you put in any effort. You're not even drawing him with the mobility aid he actually uses, hell he may not have ever had to use a cane before. Some people draw him in a wheelchair but don't draw his oxygen tubes, some people draw him with a cane and his oxygen tubes. Why isn't anyone ever upset about that? Because it's "close enough"? Where do you draw the line? Maybe these kind of portrayals are supposed to bridge the disconnect between in-game and reality, but that doesn't make it correct or a better portrayal or whatever. Drawing him disabled at all isn't the same as portraying him accurately in his disability. Not all disabilities are the same and not all mobility aids are the same and those things can be really personal to us??? They're not just interchangeable or whatever??? You're not even portraying him or his experience accurately because, and lets be honest, its a lot more about stylizing his disability and feeling better about yourself than it is about portraying him accurately disabled. It grosses me out that some of you think you're better for giving him any kind of disability or portraying him disabled at all... because you think it's better than not portraying him as disabled I guess...? This isn't a "take what you can get" situation. It feels so virtue-signal-y the way some of y'all go about Scar being disabled. It's gross. Commit to doing it right or shut up about it.

Fourth of all, stop assuming you know what will upset him as a disabled person, ESPECIALLY if you're not disabled yourself. Stop acting like there is one correct way to portray him even though clearly he doesn't mind as long as it's well-meaning (first point). He can speak for himself and not all disabled people will feel the same way about this situation, so you can't really assume just because he's disabled. Don't be offended for him or on his behalf, he can do that on his own if he feels the need.

*Also I have 0 issues with any of these portrayals. Wheelchair, cane, whatever. I think it's all neat. I just wanted to call out the hypocrisy and kinda virtue-signal-y attitude of some people.

[body-diversity-for-solista]

Hi, I just found your blog and got a little overexcited about the possibilities. Sorry if this is a lot, I just like going on about ideas I have and I don't expect you to do all of them, if anything please just think of these as suggestions / inspiration for if you want to draw any of them. :)

Younger characters (i.e. Tressa, Agnea, Crick) with acne? (Or older characters too, I just would like to see more characters in fiction with acne because it feels like they're always drawn with perfect skin.)

Alfyn with scarring on his face/hands (Castti has scarring from the poison rain, why not have Alfyn have scarring from the illness he had as a kid)?

Therion with a wheelchair/cane/other means of helping him get around? I find it a little hard to believe that he has NO lasting damage from that fall, I imagine it's not impossible for his legs to have gotten messed up or for him to have been partially paralysed.

Ort if he had to leave the Sanctum Knights post-story (even temporarily) due to injuries -- scarred maybe, and/or using a cane or wheelchair? It bothers me that he was the only survivor and was hit full force near the end there, and the game didn't go back to him after the fight, you just find out later if you go to the cathedral that "oh actually he's fine now."

Thank you so much for the requests! I don’t remember exactly what symptoms Alfyn’s disease was said to cause besides coughing blood, so I just made up some marks I thought looked cool.

I 100% agree with your point about Therion, it makes sense that he would have been permanently injured in some way from his fall. But also Ort absolutely deserved a recovery period or at least acknowledgement of his injuries. (I love how before the boss fight Temenos is all “😱! I’ll come back for you, just stay alive until then!” and then the chapter just ends. like oh yeah. totally forgot about that guy.)

[elsiebrayisgay]

possibly it's a lack of sufficient bitterness on my part but for me, it just seems like whether corrective eyewear (do contacts count?) qualifies as a mobility aid is going to be pretty case-by-case anyway based on a person's experience of having it versus not but more than that it seems to me that the discussion is missing any nuance the social model can bring. corrective lenses are normal, widely accepted, and readily available in whatever style you want provided you can get them, and while, at least in the US, they are outrageously expensive and insurance is difficult sometimes, most people who need them can get them. this normalized state effectively un-disables people who, under the medical model, have impairments, because their needs are met and society is fluent in them. the difference here is that ableism often denies access to, say, wheelchairs in access to the device and also social acceptance once you have it.

to keep this post from turning all the way into a paper, though, the thing that bothers me is that there is the chance for solidarity here between people who have needs met under the social model and those whose needs aren't being met. this could be--should be!--unifying because all these devices are wildly overpriced, often locked behind prohibitive profit-based insurance but instead the differences between these situations act as a wedge rather than a bridge. if you rely on corrective eyewear, think about how society accepts that need and meets it; hope and work for a world where people who need wheelchairs (or anything else) are treated that way too.

without my wheelchair, going out and participating in social or public spaces would be next to impossible. without my glasses, writing this post would be significantly more difficult, and playing videogames--one of my primary social activities being homebound and since the pandemic--would be even more so, if not outright impossible, which is to say nothing of driving. for me, personal bodily mobility is a strange delineation to draw among the many fields of personal capacity that there are. for me there seems to be more to be gained in the similarity of experiences and the solidarity with those who may learn about disability justice from their nearsightedness.

[loominggaia]

How much of Fairy Tale Rejects survived into the current iteration of Looming Gaia? And is it true that Freelance Good Guys was meant only to be a side story before becoming the main one?

Actually most aspects of FTR ended up making it into LG! Particularly the characters, I think the vast majority ended up in LG eventually, and some of those that didn't are planned to show up in the future.

Some of the characters had their appearances or backstories tweaked to make them fit the reboot better, but overall their basic concepts stayed the same. For example, Evan was present in FTR as a crippled Evangelite soldier who flees his kingdom. In LG he's a crippled Evangelite civilian who flees his kingdom. (Funfact: Evan was planned to contract lycanthropy later on in FTR. But in LG, he basically starts the series with it.) Lukas, Glenvar, Balthazaar, Linde, Skel, Elska, and Mr. Ocean were also present in FTR, so that's most of the Freelance Good Guys right there. Zeffer was planned to appear later, but the comic never made it that far. Alaine, Isaac, and Jeimos didn't exist until the FGG comics.

When I started FTR, I didn't expect to get so into the worldbuilding aspect. I had all these fun ideas I wanted to share, but it was hard to work them into this small-scale story I had. So I eventually shifted focus away from the villagers of Drifter's Hollow and towards the Freelance Good Guys, because following a team of travelling mercenaries was a good excuse to expose readers to different parts of this world.

I always wanted the series to be a comic, but ongoing problems with my wrist made that impossible. It got to the point where I was wearing a splint more often than not, so I had to seriously cut back on my drawing time. I shifted to writing instead which was a lot easier on me, especially as my health issues began to stack and get really bad. I was bedbound and wheelchair-bound for a few years there. That's what forced me to buckle down and take writing seriously, because I couldn't really do anything else at the time.

So I rebooted the world a third and final time as a series of short stories, this time working in aspects of Fairy Tale Rejects AND Freelance Good Guys. This way fans of both series would still get to see their favorite characters while also exploring new worldbuilding concepts. I feel like I hit a really good balance here, personally. I don't feel like I'm being pulled in different directions, all the characters and their stories fit seamlessly in with one another now.

The dynamic these characters have now is pretty much where FTR was headed anyway. I planned to have the Kelvingyard escapees form a mercenary group to make money, with Elska as the leader. After a while I realized this dynamic needed some serious tweaking, and Evan became the leader instead, among many other changes. Overall I'm happy with the way everything came together.

*

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

[shadowsight-aster]

VIBRATES. SO

Silent Hill AU the beloved. The creatures manifested from Cellbit's mind r pr silly. One of them is pr much just a creature version of Cellbit himself with abnormally long claws and a huge maw with 2 rows of teeth which is kind of a representation of how he kind of sees himself and a lot of his past that haunts him yk!!!!

Also bc my version of cellbit has a form of disability (using a crutch/part time wheelchair yk) there's also "mini" creatures basically that just roam the streets as very common enemies n they're like, half creature half rusty wheelchair basically, totally molten together.

The story is kind of. Hard to explain bc I feel like it only makes sense to Me lol but basically his lingering feeling of guilt became so heavy, his mind in a way split it off to have an easier time dealing with it, and it manifested into this twisted world of nonsensical looping hallways and empty cells and rusty bars all over and just a massive tangle of impossible and merged rooms and buildings as a representation of his mental state thats trying to put blockages into his way so he won't dig too deep into his past to not hurt himself over it again. His whole journey through it is basically just representative of him trying to find some acceptance about it within himself

MX. GORE...DID YOU KNOW I LOVE YOUR BRAIN? LIKE...THIS IS SO CREATIVE? ??? i'm thinking hard about this wait. the fact that it's manifested into his own prison. cellbit cannot catch a break even in his own mind oh my god (something...something...his subconscious trying to keep him "locked away" because he's worried of the cruelty he's capable of) and how he sees himself as this. creature built to hunger and rage and destroy. sigh. collapses on my desk. puts my hands in my head. cellbit you'll be famous forever... i would love to hear your take on mike/roier/bagi/baghera actually because this is so. delicious meal eating it like a fine soup also it's funny that you mention cellbit being a wheelchair user because i was drawing pepito yesterday! and my vers of him is more flying fish than bipedal dragon like the other eggs so he uses a custom wheelchair built by cellbit. they're wheelchair buddies :)

[orleans-jester]

Roommate Go-Go HCs

Although she’d lay claim to the bed - hey, Dale pretty much gave her the option, she was taking it, if there were times when she felt like she couldn’t sleep, she’d wake him and tell him that he could take it. She pulls a lot of all nighters while working on projects, so he’ll get it probably half of the time.

She’ll usually bring home some leftovers from work for the two of them. Omurice mainly, sometimes sandwiches, curry with rice, and desserts every once in a while, cupcakes that unfortunately have drawings of the maids tucked into them. Go-Go always makes sure that Dale never gets one of her.

When she gets into a project, like the wheelchair which she’d do in the bedroom because he’s weird about seeing what she’s doing, she’ll neglect food and sleep until she’s finished, she gets extremely focused like that.

When she does eventually leave, things will be better than they were before. She was like Willem and his dolls, always tinkering. The oven will have better circulation, the toaster will work quicker, automatic soap dispenser built onto the bathroom and kitchen sinks, boosted the reception on the television, increased the water pressure in the shower, made the dishwasher run more silently, and upgraded Elsa’s vacuum for better suction.

It’ll be near impossible to catch her in her work uniform. She changes at work, both before her shift and after, just so she doesn’t have to ride back with the humiliation.

There are times when she might be caught in the bathroom, practicing “cute” expressions for work because the main complaint that she gets is that she’s not kawaii enough. And then she often sticks her tongue out and makes fun of herself under her breath. If it wasn’t for the damn money...

She steals her bike from her house along with some of her other things, so she’s able to get to and from work when the weather isn’t bad, so she’s not bugging Dale for rides or anything. Once in a while, she’ll get a ride from one of her racing friends if there is unfortunate weather because no one wants a drowned-looking cat-maid to serve their drinks.

She doesn’t invite people over or anything - except for Scout, she’s really respectful of the place. She’s also not a neatfreak but she does clean up after herself, even if it’s a few hours later.

Redline, Hackers and Tetsuo The Iron Man 1 are her comfort movies, so if she’s curled up with those and big headphones, she’s not having a good day.

If theres anytime that Dale’s laundry ends up with hers, she’ll usually fling it back at him clean. Like full on slingshot his underwear to his face. Dunk his pants on his head so the legs are up like pigtails.

Also this scene comes to mind and I don’t know why???(cute tho)

[scrapheapchallenge]

happy International Wheelchair Day! Meet StarBug, my FreedomChair A08L, I've had it since 27th February 2018 and it changed my life for the better, my only regret is not getting one sooner. It took over a year of research to find the right one for me - the wrong wheelchair can make your symptomps/pain WORSE and can be actively harmful, so getting the right one for your unique needs is VITAL. Do NOT buy the first one you see - and don't take the advice of abled doctors etc in this decision either - talk to OTHER WHEELCHAIR USERS. Also, we're "wheelchair users", we're not "wheelchair bound" (we're not tied to them, or "confined to a wheelchair" like it's some horrible trap. Wheelchairs are FREEDOM. The right wheelchair will make your life better - mine reduces my pain, reduces my reliance on medications, reduces my time stuck inside the house (pandemonium notwithstanding), gives me freedom to socialise, do things for myself and join in with society, rather than being stuck at home. StarBug is only 26kg and folds to fit in almost any car, can be taken on planes, I can drive it straight onto trains and busses to get further afield independently without needing to ask to be driven places so often. (Again, current global situation excepted). I've included some drawings I've been working on which are a resource for artists to use when portraying wheelchairs and wheelchair users in their art. We need to get away from the HORRIBLE outdated hospital transfer chair designs that haven't changed since the 1960s/70s, and portraying them in art and the media is really really unhelpful to the disabled community. If you're going to share disability aids, do your research, talk to members of the disability community, and ASK US - then show proper, modern mobility devices which we actually USE. Wheelchairs are not shameful, they are amazing. We like to customise them, decorate them with bright colours, stickers, heck mine even has a heated seat, onboard USB port and colour changing LED lights under the frame so it's comfy, practical and fun.  I'm not ashamed of it, I'm PROUD of it, I love it to bits. The right wheelchair will make your life better, and you'll be sad when it comes time to upgrade. It's not just a piece of equipment, it's your partner, your helper, your buddy that takes you fun places and helps you be part of things. Touching someone's wheelchair is no different to touching them - first, we can feel it, second, it's RUDE - never ever touch, push etc someone's wheelchair without express permission. And ffs don't say "can I have a go?" or "have you got a license for that" because trust me, after the hundreth time, behind my tired smile I just want to kick you in the shins because it's not even remotely funny. Wheelchairs are not bad things, they're not negative, we don't want to leave them behind and "be free to walk again!" because they make our lives BETTER.  Medical professionals denying people wheelchairs instead condemn people to a lifetime of pain and isolation, instead of the freedom they could be enjoying that woudl improve not only their mental health but their physical health as well. Also, we don't just get wheelchairs for free. Sometimes, yes, you can get horrible, unsuitable, heavy and outdated wheelchairs on the NHS or through motability, which do not suit your needs, may be unusuable or cause you injury - because it's all about cost. The only way for many people to get good wheelchairs that actually fit their needs, yes, even in the UK, is by self funding/crowdfunding, and they're not cheap. A proper fitted manual active user chair can start at over £10,000! My own powerchair was actually relatively CHEAP at about £3,000. Getting a used one was not an option as first finding the exact make and model that I could physically use would be almost impossible, but also it'd already have wear on the components and a risk of breaking and leaving me stranded - I wouldn't be able to get insurance/warranty cover on a used one so easily or sometimes at all. I've fallen into that trap before with mobility scooters, and batteries would be goosed. So StarBug was partly crowdfunded, and partly from my own savings. And every day I'm still thankful to those of you who so kindly donated to help me to buy it - you have no idea how much you've made my life better, and continue to do so. Thank you.

[ambraambrose]

A lunchbreak-observation

Open Heart: Somwhere in book 1.

Pairing: Ethan x Casey

Raiting: G, fluff

Note: all characters belong to pixelberry

Normally Ethan spent his break in his Office alone or sometimes with Naveen. But since his mentor forced him to sit in the Cafeteria for lunch, saying he needed socializing, he found himself spending the lunch break more and more in this huge ugly room with the awful food. The reason for his presence there, he would never confess, not even to himself, was a group of six of the new interns or better for one intern and her five friends, Casey Valentine. The intern he wanted under all circumstances to come to Edenbrook after he read her assignment. What he didn't know at that point was that she would turn his whole life upside down. Since her first day something about her draw him to her. He knew she had potential when he insisted to hire her but the force of nature she was took the floor under his feet away. Her potential was more than he could have imagined. But besides her abilities to become one of the best doctors possible there was something else about her that made him driven for her and he couldn't sense it or didn't want to admit what is was. She was so extremely beautiful in a way he couldn't find any words to describe it to be satisfactory, she was kind, brave, driven, passionate, funny, intelligent, caring, friendly, sarcastic, strong and he could go on and on. The first day Naveen dragged him into the full cafeteria he immediately saw her and her friends. The other interns eyed the group too and you could see they didn't belong to the rest, it was jealousy but first of all it was admiration. They absolutely were one kind of a group, Lahela, the surgical intern, a sunny boy, a Player and womanizer but there was truly more than meets the eye. You could see that he was very caring, determined to make all his five friends happy and satisfied with themselves and making them see what he saw in them. So if you knew him it was also impossible to dislike him. But Ethan also knew that Bryce was whipped to Casey and that was something he was furious about. Not to mention he saw them kissing after their first day in Donahue's. He didn't know if they are seriously dating or just messing around and that also made him insane. How would he ever stand a chance against the scalpel jockey?

Dr. Trinh a sweet little girl and she also had the potential to become a great doctor if she wasn't so emotional. He could see that she took the Job with her home and Ethan was afraid it could become too much for her. But he truly hoped she would find her strength otherwise it would be a loss for the medical work. She also seemed to be the closest friend to Casey. He heard her saying to Danny that she and Casey were dolphins and no sharks what made Ethan smile cause he found it kind of cute.

Dr. Greene was a shy but friendly and very open guy. Through his observation Ethan could tell that he was a really important part of the group and within the company of his friends he blossomed out and was someone you could steal horses with. The poor boy was in a wheelchair but he took no benefit of it from anyone he handled  his work despite his handicap better than many other interns. Casey seem to be very eager to bring his true character to the surface by giving him confidence and you could see him ease up more and more. He often took Casey, Bryce or Sienna on his lap driving around with them in his wheelchair. Ethan felt the wish to find a cure for the boy to give him all possibilities his disease took from him but it seemed like he didn't take it as handicap and Ethan had full respect for him.

Dr. Varma was a piece of work. Also a very impressive doctor and despite Dr. Trinh she could be more emotional and understanding. She was really stoic and defensive. Mostly she looked like she wanted to punch someone right in the face. Ethan was considering to hire her to protect him from annoying people. But there was something else he saw in her eyes when she looked at Casey, a certain pain and anger but deep down a smolder and he knew what that meant, not only Lahela out of the group had it for Casey.

And then there was this guy that didn't quite fit to anyone of them, Dr. Olsen. A aspiring pale guy, something about him made Ethan uncomfortable. That boy seemed stressed out and his eyes flickered around all the time. Most of the time he buried his face in his hands in embarrassment when the others made something for fun like the wheelcharing, food competitions or really strange conversations about baking paper blanks or if the boys of the group thought it would be sexy to have a third boob or the endless list of funny sounding words like "bellybutton". Why was he with them? He lived with them but it seemed like he thought he was over them. Ethan didn't like this guy especially near to Casey's presence it made Ethan want to jump between them and save Casey from him.

While Ethan thought about them he heard them enter laughing already about something. "we should make it a costume party to Halloween", Elijah said. "Nah, you don't want to see my hot body hidden under a costume", of course Lahela suggested. "Please, let the theme be mummy or nun so there would be a few hours where Scalpel Jokey won't push his bare chest to anybody's face", Varma commented with a roll of her eyes. "Oh please, it would be so awesome! Casey, Sienna please back me up here!" "I'm with Elijah, we need to give a Halloween party or at least visit one." Sienna nodded excited to Casey's positive statement. Clapping her hands together, she suggested: "Yes yes yes and we should do a group costume!" "You mean we all dressed as mummies or nuns?" Skeptical as ever this came from Landry, Ethan thought annoyed. "No of course not! For example if we stick with mummies it would be the group theme Egypt, so one would be a mummy but someone else would be Cleopatra and someone a Sphinx or so." Now Elijah’s eyes were shining like stars: "oh yes, that is an awesome idea no the best idea ever! we also could choose a movie or a book or a tv show or a game! And each of us has to decide who the others are! Please it is not just Halloween it is my birthday!" Of course no one could say "no" to Greene making his best pleading pout. "Alright, what theme do you have in mind? What about “300”? What do you think, me in just burgundy speedos?" Lahela asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Varma rolled her eyes: “Sorry, I threw up a little.” “Oh come on Jackie, you can rub oil over my body.” Like a shotgun Elijah answered: "Game of Thrones!" And now every group member was full of excitement. seemed like this "Game of Thrones" is a big thing. Ethan never heard of it. Casey rushed to Elijah hugging him euphoric. "Is it possible to love you even more my cutie!" Damn even if it was totally clear that Casey and Dr. Greene were platonic, Ethan wished he could get this treatment from Casey. Before he could start to mentally clap himself he realized  he should go back to work. On his way back to the Office of the diagnostic team he thought about the Party the six interns were planning and he caught himself thinking what it would be like to be invited to this Event like to their housewarming party. He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, he hated Halloween since he was 15 and never ever would he wear a stupid costume. He sighed and entered the diagnostic Team in the Office where the other members waited for him with a smile on each face.

Hello everyone, thank you for reading. I'm sorry, i'm not a very experienced writer and English is not my native language, but i hope you enjoy reading this.

If you want to be tagged or have tips or questions please let me know.

[cosmik-homo]

[ID: digital drawing of Humanized, ambiguously gendered versions of R2-D2 and C-3PO from star wars, in front of abstract furniture and dark, open spaced background, with a theater-like composition. Artoo is a short, round faced person in a wheelchair, with warm tan brown skin and closely cropped black hair. They are wearing a dark red shirt and a cool, baggy denim vest, and dark pants. They're looking up at threepio with an open smile and gesturing, reaching to hold their partner's elbow. On a stand behind them rests a cocktail glass. Threepio is a tall, lanky person with bronzey skin, dark wavy shoulder length hair, golden round glasses and sharp features, who is standing leaning against a seat and holding a half full cocktail glass, looking at artoo with a fond smile. They're wearing a mustard sweater over a white collared shirt, grey pants, and a dark belt. Dark blue handwritten lyrics are written around the couple, reading, "Do you know, how great my life is, / Saving Lives, And Loving You". The word you is enhanced with golden lines. /End ID]

Hey look it's a droid-gay from next door! Followed by their lover who's a droid-gay from next door too.... Yeah, it's impossible for me to interact with media without at least thinking about some A Day In Falsettoland based content, and they just worked, too well. I think I've settled on calling these versions of them- which I just keep wanting to draw- Lesbian Husbands, cuz it encapsulates the Gender very well while also being a play on droid husbands. Bonus couplet under the cut!

[ID: another drawing in the same compilation as before, with threepio facing the viewer this time and closer up, and artoo somewhat faded with a more blurry background, lineartless, creating the feel of a narrowing focus as Threepio does a theatric aside- they have an annoyed expression, looking to the side eye from artoo, gesturing up with one hand as they speak/sing and holding their almost empty cocktail glass in the other. Golden text reads "S.he saves lives and I save CHICKEN FAT; / I can't fucking deal with that". /End ID]

Cuz like, I feel like in canon they often have the vibe of, like, tension between wanting to stick together and their careers not really allowing to have that, or making it a choice between their roles, y'know? Like. I could ramble more but I think it's actually p clear what I'm going for. Frustrated but loving house-spouse that just also wants To Career,, very threepio.

[bamboowrites]

what you’d gift your s/o in genshin, and reactions to you gifting them: albedo

(according to alphabetical order, playable characters edition, no children, teenage characters are paired with whose age I assume is the same as them) (gender neutral reader) (multiple options!)

Options

(ik y’all have different tastes and physical levels, so let’s goo <3 I hope some options also suit our peeps with wheelchairs/crutches)

Option 1:

After looking around Liyue (or asking the Traveler twins to help you look around) so you can get Albedo something he won’t usually find in Mondstat, you opted for a sturdy notebook. It was hardcover with a specific coating, so if your bf spills something from his experiments, his book would be undamaged. It’s also made with the finest Liyuean paper, with an ancient lost method, and thus was very hard to find, much less persuade its creator to sell you it. Hard-earned approval and a lot of costly materials went into it. You went an extra mile for it just because your studious boyfriend grumbled about the normal notebooks breaking easily. Sure hope he likes it! Not going to tell him how you got it though, at least not the details. Let him think it’s a simple gift. You wouldn’t want him to not use it at all.

Option 2:

You went hiking and scaled mountainous terrains to get Albedo the rare ingredients he wanted for a big experiment. Albedo likes to stay in and just purchase necessary ingredients, so acquiring those violetgrasses and qingxins would be impossible for him since no one in Mondstat sells those. You also went to the top of Starsnatch Cliff for cecilias. If he desired to use them in other ways, it would work too! Brightening up the place; commissioning perfume, potions or food; these flowers could be quite versatile aside from for experiments. You gently set them in a vase and left a note on his desk. The notecard is your favourite colour, so he’d know when he comes back from his lab. That’s the perks of him having an athletic adventurer partner <3

Option 3:

You have been complying all of your sketches of Albedo (for several weeks), and now that your sketchbook finally has a proper cover, it’s time. As you lightly cleaned up the sketches, you flip through and glimpsed into the memories you immortalised on paper. Some are charcoal/pencil sketches, some are watercolours, some are acrylic paints. You drew more than expected tbh, and you hope Albedo would like it.

One of the memories: When you two were in Dragonspine, you made him wear a husky beanie, fluffy earmuffs, fleece jackets and dog-paw mittens; while you wore your favourite boots, scarves and [winter clothing items of your choice]. He grumbled at first, but he retaliated when you agree to wear cat-ear earmuffs to his amusement. You got to draw your pink-nosed, boyfriend as he caught snowflakes in his pale palms, long eyelashes crystallised with snow. His eyes lit up as you smiled at him warmly. Even though you caught a cold and needed to go back, he carried you back afterwards. <3 you drew this one in your warm home, with him setting up the temperature mechanisms.

Reactions:

Option 1 (Liyue notebook)

Albedo is amazed at the special notebook you got him, and treasures it a lot while still using it. He only uses it for his greatest experiments, and to jot down your smol comments on what you like. He gave you a kiss and you sat in his lap while he studied his notes. You got more snuggles than usual <3

Also, he got super nervous when he accidentally spilled water on it, even with its repellent features, because it was a gift from you. It’s kinda sweet seeing him fuzz over things he won’t usually mind just for you. He also gets angy™️ when other people try to pry it away from him. You give him extra hugs for those cute moments.

Option 2 (Rare ingredients)

His face lit up at the gift but not surprised. You always do little acts of services for him and it warms his heart every time. He appreciated your effort in acquiring them and keeping them intact, since it’s challenging even for an adventurer. He was about to thank you and remind you to be careful if you planned to do dangerous things again next time, but he found you snoring with a wet head of hair (context: you showered before he came home). You must have been exhausted. He smiled and gently put a towel underneath your head, then readjusted the blanket to cover you snugly. He went back to work, but not before kissing you on your forehead.

You woke up to him making tea with the remaining cecilias after experiments. He definitely didn’t save them up just to make his partner smile with relaxing, aromatic teas. You grinned and leaped into his arms, and he had to catch both the cup of tea and you at the same time. Good to see your strength training with him paid off ;))

Option 3 (Your sketchbook of Albedo)

He’s super proud of your artistic abilities and internally ‘aww’-ed at how dedicated you were to fill out an entire sketchbook with his image. He blushed when he saw your drawing of him wearing husky beanies out of embarrassment and the cuteness of you drawing that in the first place. You got more hair ruffles <3

He let you take his introverted self out more, seeing that you loved spending time with him so much; and began to secretly make more artwork about you as well. He also praised your work a lot and would show it off to his other more artistically-inclined acquaintances if they happen to visit.

[deadpresidents]

Unfinished: April 12, 1945

As March 1945 drew to a close, Franklin Delano Roosevelt was exhausted. At the beginning of February, Roosevelt had attended the Yalta Conference with Winston Churchill and Joseph Stalin -- a meeting which required the American President to undertake a physically punishing and extraordinarily dangerous trip halfway around the world to the Crimean Peninsula in the middle of a raging world war. At Yalta, Roosevelt’s appearance had shocked the foreign leaders and their aides. In his last face-to-face meeting with Churchill, on February 18, 1945, FDR was seen as a dead man walking. Churchill’s personal doctor, Lord Moran, told a friend that Roosevelt had “only a few months to live”.

Being President of the United States for just one term is taxing enough on a young man or a healthy man. Franklin Delano Roosevelt had been President for twelve years. He had campaigned for the Presidency and been victorious in four national elections. His Administration faced one of the greatest domestic crises in American History -- the Great Depression -- and the greatest crisis and bloodiest conflict in world history -- World War II. FDR had attacked these problems (and other issues that arose during his terms) with energy, creativity, and a relentless pursuit of victory.

A healthy and athletic man who stood nearly 6′2″ and weighed about 200 lbs. as Assistant Secretary of the Navy under Woodrow Wilson, Franklin Roosevelt had been stricken by polio in 1921. The disease robbed him of his ability to walk and, at the time, looked as if it had robbed him of a political future. He rebounded politically but physically he was never the same. Confined to a wheelchair, the muscles in his legs withered like the branches of a tree in winter. Although he could not walk under his own power, FDR taught himself to stand while wearing heavy steel braces around his shins. He needed the assistance of a muscular partner -- sometimes one of his sons, sometimes a military aide -- in order to feign the appearance of walking. Through sheer will, however, Roosevelt learned to take a few steps without anyone’s help -- a handy skill that he would show off at important campaign rallies. But as he began his unprecedented fourth term in the White House in the early months of 1945, FDR no longer had the energy to show off.

Roosevelt was as gravely ill as Lord Moran suggested. The successful 1944 Presidential campaign had severely drained his already tapped-out reservoirs of energy and stamina. His fourth inauguration was low-key, partly because it took place in the midst of war and partly due to the President’s failing health. Instead of the traditional inaugural ceremonies at the U.S. Capitol, Roosevelt took the Oath of Office at the White House and gave his brief fourth Inaugural Address from a balcony at the Executive Mansion. The famously verbose Roosevelt gave the second-shortest Inaugural Address in American History. By the time the crowd realized that he was talking he had already finished. Only George Washington’s four-sentence-long second Inaugural Address in 1793 was shorter than the address given by FDR on January 20, 1945.

FDR now looked entirely different than the man who had told the nation that “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself” in 1933. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, which seemed sunken into his skull. Since his first Inauguration, Roosevelt had lost 40-50 pounds. His hands shook so violently at times that some observers wondered how he was able to eat. He smoked constantly, but rarely finished his cigarettes. Most shocking of all, FDR no longer went to great lengths to conceal his disability. Frail and tired, he found it almost impossible to wear the heavy braces that he long wore on his crippled legs. On March 1, 1945, Roosevelt addressed a joint session of Congress on the results of his Yalta Conference with Churchill and Stalin. In an unprecedented move, the President sat in a chair on the floor of the House of Representatives and apologized to Congress, beginning his speech by saying, “I hope that you will pardon me for this unusual posture of sitting down during the presentation of what I want to say, but I know that you will realize it makes it a lot easier for me not to have to carry about ten pounds of steel around on the bottom of my legs.” It was the first time that President Roosevelt had ever publicly acknowledged his physical disability.

Twelve years of the Presidency, economic depression and war had strained Roosevelt’s health, but the 14,000-mile trip to the Yalta Conference on the Black Sea had pushed FDR to the limit. On March 30, 1945, Roosevelt arrived in Warm Springs, Georgia for a few weeks of relaxation and, hopefully, recuperation. Roosevelt loved Warm Springs. He had started visiting the small town in western Georgia in the 1920s, hoping that the warm waters from the natural mineral springs nearby would help him regain the use of his legs. When he was Governor of New York, FDR purchased a small house that he used when he visited Warm Springs. As President, the home was called the “Little White House” and although FDR only visited it sixteen times during his Presidency, many of those trips were for 2-3 weeks each. When his train pulled into Warm Springs at about 1:30 PM on March 30, 1945, many longtime residents said that things seemed different. Roosevelt looked terrible and while he waved to onlookers, it was with noticeable weakness.

The first few days in Georgia were tough. FDR was obviously ill and seemed to struggle making it through a church service on Easter Sunday. Roosevelt also avoided his beloved Warm Springs pools. Instead, the President rested, caught up on sleep, and visited with guests. The goal was for FDR to regain enough of his health to make a trip to San Francisco for the charter meeting of what would become the United Nations. At the Little White House with Roosevelt were some personal aides, military attaches, and cousins Daisy Suckley and Polly Delano. During his first week at Warm Springs, Roosevelt did very little work, dictating a few letters and reading briefings, stronger and more animated in the mornings and evenings but completely drained in the afternoon. Another goal for Roosevelt was to gain weight -- by the time he left Warm Springs, he hoped to be up to 170 lbs.

Still, there was no noticeable improvement in FDR’s health or spirits. Then, on April 9th, Lucy Mercer Rutherfurd arrived. As President Wilson’s Assistant Secretary of the Navy, Franklin D. Roosevelt had become involved in a passionate love affair with his wife’s social secretary, Lucy Mercer. It was 1918 when Eleanor Roosevelt discovered the affair between Franklin and Lucy and threatened to divorce him unless he promised never to see or speak to Lucy again. FDR agreed to the ultimatum -- an ultimatum that was strengthened by his mother’s threat to cut off his inheritance if he and Eleanor were divorced, as well as the fact that Franklin’s budding political career would be crushed if the affair was revealed. The relationship between FDR and Eleanor was never again passionate or loving after the discovery of the affair, but Eleanor kept her word and remained married to Franklin. Franklin, however, didn’t keep his word to Eleanor.

The Franklin-Lucy affair probably resumed shortly after Roosevelt’s first Inauguration in 1933.  By that time, FDR and Eleanor had more of a professional relationship than a personal one. He respected the First Lady’s political viewpoints, supported her activism, used her as a sounding board, and tried to act on many of her suggestions. Personally, however, there was no passion or tenderness or intimacy between the First Couple. It was FDR and Eleanor’s daughter, Anna, who helped rekindle Franklin’s relationship with Lucy. She arranged for Lucy to visit the President in the White House when Eleanor was out of town. And on April 9, 1945, Lucy Mercer Rutherfurd was in Warm Springs, Georgia visiting President Roosevelt due to Anna Roosevelt’s invitation.

FDR was so excited to see Lucy that he didn’t wait for Lucy to make the drive all the way from Aiken, South Carolina to Warm Springs. The President and his cousin Daisy decided to meet Lucy’s car en route. At Manchester, Georgia, 85 miles away from Warm Springs, the highway rendezvous took place. FDR looked happier than he had in months as Lucy got into FDR’s car along with her friend, painter Elizabeth Shoumatoff. Lucy had brought Shoumatoff along to paint a portrait of the President -- a portrait that she hoped would be an improvement on the recent photographs that had made Roosevelt look “ghastly”.

For the next two days, Roosevelt and Lucy enjoyed their time together, going on small drives, eating happy meals, and sitting together while Shoumatoff prepared to paint the President’s portrait, studying photographs and making preliminary drawings. Daisy Suckley had the opportunity to observe the unique relationship between FDR and Lucy Mercer and also had some private conversations with the President’s longtime mistress. In her diary, Daisy recorded her thoughts about the two after she accompanied them on an automobile drive that they took: “Lucy is so sweet with F(ranklin) -- No wonder he loves to have her around -- Toward the end of the drive, it began to be chilly and she put her sweater over his knees -- I can imagine just how she took care of her husband -- She would think of little things which make so much difference to a semi-invalid, or even a person who is just tired, like F(ranklin).”

On April 12th, President Roosevelt woke up and ate a light breakfast. He had a slight chill despite the warm, humid weather that day and wore his cape draped over his shoulders throughout the early afternoon. Roosevelt did a little bit of work, reading the Atlanta newspapers and dictating some correspondence. Elizabeth Shoumatoff had set up her easel in the living room where the President worked behind a card table that served as his makeshift desk. As Shoumatoff painted, FDR continued reading, and at about 1:00 PM, Roosevelt said, “We have got just about fifteen minutes more to work.”

In the quiet of the room, Daisy Suckley thought that the President had dropped his cigarette and was searching for it because his head slumped forward suddenly. Roosevelt could barely lift his head when Daisy asked what was wrong. He placed his left hand gently against the back of his head and, in a barely audible voice, told Daisy, “I have a terrific pain in the back of my head!”

Roosevelt quickly slipped into unconsciousness as the women in the room summoned help. They called for a doctor who was staying in a cottage close to the Little White House and they helped two of FDR’s valets carry the President into the bedroom. Roosevelt’s hands and feet were ice cold, but he was still breathing. Smelling salts were administered but FDR was unresponsive. As the doctor and aides tried to help the President, Lucy Mercer Rutherfurd and Elizabeth Shoumatoff recognized the hopelessness of the situation. They also recognized the potential scandal that was possible if it was learned that the President collapsed in the presence of his longtime mistress.

Shoumatoff packed up all of her paints and the unfinished portrait she had been working on. Lucy Mercer grabbed her belongings and took one last look at her beloved Franklin. He was still alive when they left, but he was breathing laboriously and his eyes no longer recognized Lucy. Lucy and Elizabeth Shoumatoff had been on the highway back to Aiken, South Carolina for an hour when President Franklin Delano Roosevelt died in Warm Springs at 3:35 PM. The official cause of death was a cerebral hemorrhage. FDR was 63 years old.

Eleanor Roosevelt was notified of her husband’s death a few minutes after 4:00 PM. She summoned Vice President Harry Truman to the White House while he was having a drink at the U.S. Capitol with House Speaker Sam Rayburn. Truman wasn’t told why he needed to hastily come to the White House, but he knew it sounded urgent. As Truman left the Capitol, he ran into a young Congressman who questioned the Vice President about his speedy exit -- a young Congressman named Lyndon Johnson.

At the White House at 5:30 PM, Eleanor Roosevelt broke the news to the Vice President simply a directly: “Harry, the President is dead.” Truman was stunned and asked what he could do for the widowed First Lady. Eleanor smiled sadly and asked, “Is there anything we can do for you? For you are the one in trouble now.” At 7:00 PM, Chief Justice Harlan Fiske Stone administered the Oath of Office to Truman as the 33rd President of the United States.

By that time, Eleanor was on her way to Warm Springs to claim her husband’s body. At about midnight, she arrived at the Little White House in Georgia where she asked about her husband’s last hours. It was then that she learned news almost as shocking as the President’s death. Eleanor found out that FDR had been with his former mistress Lucy Mercer Rutherfurd when he was stricken. She spent 45 minutes alone with his body, picked out the clothing for his burial, but never lost her composure despite the shocks that she experienced that day.

A funeral train returned FDR’s body to Washington, D.C. the next day. Roosevelt was embalmed by morticians who found that the President’s arteries were so hardened that they could barely inject the embalming fluid into his body. FDR’s body laid in state in the East Room of the White House almost 80 years to the day that Abraham Lincoln’s body rested in the very same place following his assassination. On the 80th anniversary of Lincoln’s death -- April 15, 1945 -- Franklin Delano Roosevelt was buried in the garden of his beloved estate Hyde Park on the Hudson River in New York. Upon his death, the New York Times wrote of the deceased President:

“Men will thank God on their knees a hundred years from now that Franklin D. Roosevelt was in the White House. It was his hand, more than that of any other single man, that built the great coalition of the United Nations. It was his leadership which inspired free men in every part of the world to fight with greater hope and courage. Gone is the fresh and spontaneous interest which this man took, as naturally as he breathed air, in the troubled and the hardships and the disappointments and the hopes of little men and humble people.” 

Elizabeth Shoumatoff’s Unfinished Portrait of President Roosevelt -- which she was working on when he died -- now hangs in the Little White House in Warm Springs, Georgia.

[lubdubsworld]

Falling for you( Falling from grace) Jungkook

Falling for you ( Falling from grace) Jungkook

Read Chapter 1 here

Read Chapter 2 here

Read Chapter 3 here

Rated : 18 +

Warning : . Fuck buddies? Or rather enemies that have sex. They just really hate each other but also can’t keep their hands off each other. Fair warning this has no plot. its just them being idiots .

Chapter warning : a little bit of plot just to keep things interesting yeah? 

Chapter 4

The washroom on the seventeenth floor was the unofficial gossip hub and normally I would steer clear of that place but desperate times called for desperate measures. I was pretty sure I looked like I’d been dragged backwards through a hedgerow and I had to get it fixed before I got written up . 

Willing myself not to openly flinch with every step, I tried to curb the trembling in my thighs, almost painfully sensitive to how wet and messy my lower half as. What the fuck had I been thinking. 

When I entered the restroom, I moved to the huge ornate mirror in the center and took a nice long look at myself. 

 I felt my throat seize up in shock.

Good God. 

I looked ten times worse than I felt. The hair in the back of my head was sticking up , four even gaps from where he’d gripped my hair too tight. Yelping, I pulled on the dozen hairpins holding my hair up in a messy bun, letting my hair fall around my shoulders. Panicking , I threaded my fingers through the strands, wincing when I touched my jaw. What the fuck...

I leaned closer, peering at the small abrasion near my chin. It was a bruise, shaped exactly like Jungkook’s thumb. And it was already turning into an ugly shade of puce. 

Slightly hysterical because, Hoseok was so incredibly unbending when it came to office etiquette and  I did not want to get fired, I flipped at the fancy taps, sticking my hand underneath the cold water and splashing it all over my face. 

The door opened behind me and I flinched.

“Oh, hey Areum....” Three of my colleagues walked in . I recognized two of them , Jieun and Hana . The third one looked new.

“Hey...” I croaked out, trying hard not to look like I’d just been fucked to an inch of my life in a supply closet by the boss’ son. 

Oh fuck, what the hell was I thinking? 

The girls moved to the mirror , spreading out across the long counter and pulling out their compacts and lipsticks . I kept my head down, still trying to calm my pounding heart. 

“So let me get this straight, he called you at eleven in the night yesterday and wanted to meet you ? At your apartment?” Hana was saying. 

The new girl was blushing as red as a tomato.

“Yeah...he uh... he told me he was just returning from his training. He’s a boxer.” There’s a shy sort of admiration in her voice and I felt an odd sense of foreboding. 

“Booty call.... He wanted to fuck you for sure.” Jieun said firmly. “ You’re a lucky bitch, Sana... ”

Sana.....

My fingers started trembling when I heard the familiar name. I tried to calm myself down but it was impossible . A red hot sort of rage began licking its way up my spine. It wasn’t new. I knew he fucked other people. We both did. 

but I’d never stood within two feet of one of his conquests. 

“ Yeah...but then he called me like an hour later and said he wasn’t coming around.” Her voice was tinged with disappointment and I felt a sick sort of satisfaction. 

Jungkook had cancelled because of the pic I’d sent him. 

“Maybe he thought he wanted more.... like you told me he asked you to come meet him at practice tomorrow right? To get coffee afterwards... ? Maybe he wants to do this properly....take you out on dates...get to know you....”

I couldn’t stay there a second longer. 

“Ladies...” I bowed quickly and they offered me cheerful smiles. I all but ran out of the restroom, hating the sharp sting of tears somewhere near my lashes. 

I stumbled to the back stairwell, which was mostly unused and usually deserted. Gripping the walls, I slid down to sit on the floor, drawing my knees up to bury my face in. 

There was a reason I didn’t do public sex, I thought, shaking. Despite the way I mouthed off at Jungkook, sex with him always took a toll and I had always, always made sure I had space and time to recover from it. Gripping my thighs and trying to fight the urge to whine, I fumbled with my phone. 

“Areum?”

“Can I have the day off?” I whispered, shaking a little. 

“You alright?” Hoseok’s voice sounded genuinely worried and I hummed.

“ Got my period.” I said blankly. 

“ Gotchu. I’ll fill up the form and get one of the interns to pack your stuff up. You need to get some meds or something? Need a ride home?”

I felt warmth bloom in my chest. This is why Hoseok was such a great HR manager. He genuinely cared. 

“ I don’t need a ride. Or anything else.” I said quickly, “I’ll take a cab...”

There was a slight shuffling and then, an altogether familiar and unwelcome voice in the background went.

“Who’s that?”

Oh fuck. What the hell was he doing there? 

“Areum...hang on, Jungkook’s here....he wants to talk to you...” Hoseok said quickly and before I could protest , I heard Jungkook’s low raspy exhale against my ears.

“Where are you?” He said shortly. 

I considered protesting but remembered that Hoseok was still there. 

“ The back stairwell... I... I’ll come there , I...”

“Stay right there. I’ll come get you.” 

Before I could respond, he had hung up. I stayed on the floor, staring stright at the opposite wall. I forced myself not to think, trying to take deep breaths. The truth was I was exhausted. Physically and otherwise. 

Letting my head fall back against the wall, I closed my eyes, trying not to think about what Id’ heard in the restroom. Was Jungkook interested in Sana? Meeting him at practice? Coffee? 

That just screamed dating to me. I’d always assumed that Jungkook wasn’t into dating. That he just enjoyed quick fucks because that’s all he had ever offered me. So maybe, it wasn’t because Jungkook didn’t want to date. It was because Jungkook didn’t want to date  me. 

 Which was fine. I didn’t want to date him either. I really didn’t . 

“Hey....you okay?”

I had to inhale shakily, just to bring myself to look at him. I felt my heart ache something fierce because he was kneeling in front of me, strands of hair falling into doe back eyes. Eyes that fairly glistened with genuine concern. There was no infuriating smirk or haughty smile....instead his lips were parted in genuine concern, eyebrows furrowed in worry and one hand resting on my knee , fingers just so unfamiliarly gentle. 

I stared at him for another second and smiled evenly.

“Guess I’m gonna be needing that wheelchair after all.” I quipped. 

He stared at me for a second before his face split in a wide grin, a genuine bark of laughter spilling out of him. He looked so carefree and unabashed that I bit my lips, staring at him some more. 

“Let’s get you home , yeah?”

I nodded, letting him grip my arm to help me up. 

“It’s okay. I can walk... “ I said softly and he hummed, but still kept an arm around me and I noticed that he had my handbag slung on the other shoulder.

We reached the elevator and rode down in silence .

I followed him to the basement parking and he fumbled with the smart key to his car , pointing in the direction of the multitude of cars and I watched one of the flashy red ones blink. 

“Let’s go to my place...., yeah?” He said casually and I groaned.

“Jungkook, I know this going to make your ego swell but I’m not joking when I say that I cannot physically take your dick at least for another couple of days.” 

He rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t want to fuck you, God. I’m working on a project for the Art Fest down at the Museum and I’m staying home. You can rest there....” He said casually, moving to put his seat belt on. He fixed the mirrors by prodding a few buttons and I watched the tattoos on his arm flex as he gripped the steering wheel, one arm coming around the headrest of my seat so he could turn and back out of the lot carefully. 

I frowned at the broad shoulders near my face. .

“Why would I rest there? I have a home....” I protested , watching him hold the door open for me. 

“Because I know for a fact that , it being Monday, both your sister and your mother are supposed to be coming over today to cook and clean for you because you have no life skills, “ He grinned and I glared at him, “ . They’ll probably notice the limp and I just thought I’d spare you the humiliation.” 

I didn’t respond because he was right. My mom and sister were home and it would be impossible to get any rest with them around. The fact that Jungkook somehow knew this made me feel jittery and nervous though. 

“You have a fight this weekend?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. 

He kept his eyes on the road, sparing me just one questioning glance.

“How’d you know?” He asked curiously and I bit my lips.

 I’ve been following your boxing career for a three years.

 “ Just heard someone say something at the office...” I said vaguely. 

“You aren’t invited.” He said sharply and I gripped the seats, annoyed.

“I don’t want to be there anyway.” I snapped back. 

He huffed.

“I’m serious about what I do Areum... I don’t want you interfering in that part of my life, alright? We’ve been through this before.”

I sneered at that.

“I know....isn’t that why you literally banned me from your gym. “ 

He didn’t reply and I stared at my hands. 

He had invited that girl, though, my mind supplied helpfully. 

He invited her not only to the gym, to watch him practice, but also for coffee afterwards...you know...to get to know her better....probably because she’s not the kind of girl who would spread her legs as easily as you do.....

 I stared out of the window, remembering how pretty and put together Sana had looked. The dainty walk, the perfect make up and the long hair, styled perfectly. 

I was beautiful too. Of course I was and I knew it. 

Men like Jungkook didn’t go for unattractive women even if it was for a quick lay. But, there’s beauty and then there’s actual charm? I wasn’t charming in any sense of the word. But then, did I have to be charming and attractive and perfect to go see him fight? 

Why?

What about the other people there? If literally anyone could go watch him fight, why wasn’t I allowed? 

“I want to come watch you train....” I said impulsively, my anger getting the better of me. 

Jungkook turned to give me a shocked stare. 

“What? Why?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion and I shrugged.

“No reason.” I said shortly. I could physically feel his irritation build. 

“Areum....” He began , voice holding a note of warning but I refused to back down.

“Literally anyone can visit your gym. You own the thing and you love offering discounts to everyone you meet...and yet somehow, I’m ‘ banned’. Why?” I demanded.

“Because I don’t want you there...That’s a good enough reason for me.” He snapped back and I clenched my fists harder. 

“Well, sucks for you. I’m gonna be there. On the front row. Let me see what’s so great about Jeon Jungkook in the ring that drives women wild...” I scoffed.

He stared at me for a second and then chuckled.

“Ahh..... so you just wanna watch me get wet and sweaty.... ? Understandable.”

I sneered. 

“You have been wet and sweaty on top of me enough times and trust me the novelty has long worn off.”  

He groaned.

“It genuinely feels like anytime I try to be halfway decent human being to you, you repay me by being as annoying as you can....” He said thoughtfully and I couldn’t say anything to that. 

i flinched when his hand reached out, moving to my knees and squeezing /lightly.

“What are you doing?” I frowned slapping at his fingers and he merely moved his hand higher up my thigh. I flinched when he squeezed again.  

“The only time you’re remotely bearable is when I’m touching you....So I’m gonna keep my hand here...” He gave me a smug grin, eyes practically dancing with mirth and I grimaced. 

“I’m still going to come. I want to.” I said firmly. 

He didn’t argue further.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Much to my surprise , I slept away the better part of the day, buried in Jungkook’s soft white sheets , head pillowed in the dozen fluffy throws he kept around. It was vaguely arousing that someone so intensely masculine like Jungkook preferred a comfortable , soft toned bedroom. The sheets smelled exactly like him, a fresh citrusy scent that managed to be soothing and sweet and yet somehow seductively warm as well. 

I woke up to fingers in my hair, lightly stroking. The room was dim, a little bit of light from the streets spilling in through the gaps between the curtains. 

“Areum.... It’s almost eight.... I’m gonna order us something for dinner... You wanna wake up now?” 

His voice. Fuck. 

I rolled over , groggy and disoriented. My eyes took in the splendor that was Jeon Jungkook, taking in the fact that he was only wearing grey sweatpants . I stared at the smooth expanse of his chest, feeling arousal bloom , slow and steady all over me. 

“I wanna suck you off...” I croaked out before I could fully filter my own thoughts.

Jungkook chuckled a bit at that. 

“I’m not gonna say no to that, but why don’t you take a shower and wake up fully.

I shook my head.

“ Let’s get messy first..... we can shower later...” I whined, still blinking and he groaned, slipping into the bed with me, under the covers, grabbing me by the waist and lifting me up till I was on him, my chin resting on his chest as I stared at his beautiful face. 

 What am I doing here? Where is this leading?

“I’ve never seen you like this. “ He commented mildly.

“Like what?”

“Sleepy and horny....Usually you‘re just angry and horny.” 

I shook my head. 

 “I should go.” I said hesitantly.. Jungkook didn’t respond for a few seconds, merely staring at me with a blank look on his face. Then he gave me a slight squeeze around my waist and moved out from under me. .

“I can call you a cab...” He said simply, moving to get up off the bed again. I felt something jump in my throat . It was unlike him to acquiesce so fast, and it was unlike us to just.... hang out without mutual orgasms thrown in the mix and somehow that felt like a change I wasn’t ready for. A bit of panic flashed through and I reached out blindly when he stood up, grabbing his waist and yanking him closer.

I looked up at him, scooting to the edge of the bed and kneeling till I was right in front of him. 

Eager to get things back to normal, I smiled and casually, pressed both my hands behind my back, looping my fingers together at the base of my spine. 

“Get those handcuffs.” 

Jungkook’s dick literally twitched in his pants and he swore.

“Fuck baby....” He grabbed my face roughly, crashing his lips over mine. I kissed back, almost desperate, trying to remember all the reasons why he annoyed me, why this was all we were to each other. A quick fuck, a quick lay, fuck buddies. that's what we were......

“Stay here. Stay right here...Don’t fucking move.” He pulled back and dove for his bed stand. I watched as he pulled out a silky black tie. 

I grinned when he nearly fell, scrambling up on the bed and pushing up behind me. He grabbed the hem of my blouse, yanking it up over my head before grabbing my wrists together again , tying them swiftly behind me. 

“Only you...” He whispered against the back of my neck. “ Only you can do this to me. Drive me wild with want just by fucking existing....” 

And then he was lying down near me, grabbing my waist and jostling me around till I was straddling his waist. It took me a second to orient myself I managed to steady myself, staring down at him in surprise. 

“ Seeing as you said you needed a break from my dick, how about you come sit on my face, today?” He smirked. 

I tested the give on my hands, before carefully leaning down to him

“Sure you have the lung capacity for this , Jeon?” I whispered, lips brushing his as I spoke. 

He responded by gripping my waist hard, easily lifting me up till i was straddling his shoulders. 

“I’m ready to drown in that sweet sweet honeypot, baby...” He winked and it was such a ridiculously bad joke that the laughter got wrenched out of me. 

And just like that , we were back to being us again. Or at least, that's what I convinced myself of. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR’S NOTE : TELL ME WHAT YOU GUYS THOUGHT ....I WANTED THIS TO BE JUST PORN BUT APPARTENTLY I CANT WRITE ANYTHING WITHOUT ANGST FML. 

Also requests open :)